Frederick and the Councils
by Ruthrelad
Summary: The life of Frederick, a common and simple villager, takes a turn when war breaks out and he finds his home village the center of the bloody conflict. His journey carries him throughout the land where he desperately fights for what he knows and loves only to eventually find himself lost and twisted by his acts of necessary and immeasurable cruelty.
1. Prelude

**Author's note:** _Frederick and the Councils is a fan fiction story that revolves around the lore of the Warcraft franchise, that is Warcraft I, Warcraft II, and Warcraft III. Retcons and events of World of Warcraft are not taken into consideration. Notably the story uses the old pre-retcon Warcraft map seen in Warcraft III._

 _For clarity in regards to the setting and the maps you can visit these links (insert the code after 'goo . gl' without the spaces between the dot) which take you to the map and the map zoom in:_ _/D3IqVF_ _/1F0Yny_

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Prelude

To the east of the city of New Stormwind lay the humble village of Aredash. It was situated along the northern border on the Elwynn forest between the rivers of Nazferiti to the west and Stone Cairn to the east. The land was relatively peaceful and prosperous with smaller trade parties from cities and settlements across the Kingdom of Azertoh steadily enriching the village of Aredash.

The people of the unimportant village were equally unimportant. Among the more renowned men of Aredash was Guy the Wise who held the post of the commander of the village guard. He was a middle aged man with a large bushy moustache and had earned his title 'the wise' from an encounter with a troublesome tribe of orcs several years ago. Through a display of resolve and power he managed to intimidate the greenskins into believing that the village was capable of more than it was in reality and effectively convinced them to abandon the area, saving the village from the brutish greenskin menace.

A fellow of considerably less import was a young lad named Frederick. A homeless bard by profession Frederick managed to make ends meet by performing at celebrations and festivals. Although he did not hesitate to sometimes take some unattended items that he knew would not be missed too dearly whenever he saw the opportunity he did not consider himself a thief or a low-life. He was a kind-hearted, blond-haired fellow whose cheeky young face did not inspire malice or disappointment within the folks that he commonly dealt with. Carefree and happy, he sang and played his gittern throughout the years bringing music and poetry to his fellow villagers.

The peace that existed for several years in the village of Aredash dried out the well of strife and struggle and the people lived in stability. The envoys of New Stormwind frequented the settlement every month expecting a fair tribute of shekels, lumber, and provisions. The tribute guaranteed the security of the village through the strength of the armoured fist that was the army of New Stormwind; however, many of the village's merchants complained that this stifled the growth and prosperity of Aredash all the while bolstering the already grand and prosperous city of New Stormwind. The disgruntled could do little more than complain as any sort of resistance against Stormwind's might would be desperately futile and the village's situation was nowhere near as bad as to attempt some sort suicidal revolt. To people like Frederick life in the village of Aredash was simple and good.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter I

On an ordinary morning a strange caravan was sighted at the south-east forest road that led to the village. A mysterious horseman carrying a large banner bearing a silver cross at the centre of which was a large closed silver fist was leading the series of wagons. The caravan entered the village without much hassle as the guard who was supposed to be on duty, convinced that nothing could go wrong, was shirking his duties and instead having a drink or two in the local tavern. Armoured footmen with tabards of white and blue walked alongside the wagons; though their faces were concealed behind visors one could still see tell that these men were exhausted from their heavy breathing and slow trundle.

The caravan stopped at the village square and several men emerged from the wagons. Some of the men wore robes and sported long beards. Attached to their belts were fat pouches through which multiple tomes poked out of. Some of the other emerging folk seemed like simpletons. They wore plain tunics and some of them had hammers and sickles hanging down from their belts. The most peculiar and the most magnificent of the men that emerged from the caravan were dressed in oversized armour and carried large two-handed weapons with them. Their faces were scarred and emitted an aura of fearlessness and cruelty. These impressive men were the ones who did most of the talking as they engaged with on-lookers. They wanted to know where the village leader was as they needed to make some arrangements in regards to the accommodation of the party.

Soon enough several of the important-looking fellows of the party were escorted to the whereabouts of the local lord and some arrangements were made. Some of the villagers were forced to share their homes with men from the party and those who were too stubborn to accept this were kicked out of their homes altogether. The disgruntled villagers were told to tolerate this as the visitors were not ordinary soldiers but the sacred warriors of the Order of the Silver Hand – the chosen of the divine and benevolent light. Some of the more superstitious villagers were fully content with this explanation but the more reasonable and blasphemous were infuriated. They were told that the caravan stopped by for rest and would depart in a few days for the city of New Stormwind so the outrage was squelched by the temporary nature of the intrusion.

Among the people whose feathers were not ruffled by the arrival of the Silver Hand was Frederick. The cheeky fellow had a habit of not giving up a single shekel to the authorities as tax evasion was one of his greatest talents. Being homeless made this a lot easier and as the Silver Hand took to the homes of the villagers he attempted to do likewise pretending to be one of the simpleton workers. He knew he was doomed to failure as every door he knocked on to try the trick was opened by a familiar face and eventually gave up on the idea. With the day being free for him he decided to head to the tavern to try and coerce a few drinks out of the visitors in exchange for a few pleasant tunes. As he entered the tavern the innkeeper, Sebastian the Tall, greeted his frequent customer merrily. "Good day Freddy!" He partly did this to alert the customers that the bard was here so that they can get their shekels ready. Frederick decided that he may as well moisten up his throat before strumming his gittern and took a seat at the counter checking his pouch for some shekels. He found that he didn't have much left as usual, but hey, what else are shekels for if not spending them on something that you love? He called for Sebastian and ordered some cheap mead. He sat contemplating his life as the friendly innkeeper poured the delicious-looing beverage into a cup for the poor bard. He hastily glugged the sweet deliciousness down and shook his greasy head around in an attempt to rouse himself up. Following this he approached some of the other patrons with his gittern out in attempt to get some drinks out of them. A few fellows were in no mood for nonsense and told Frederick to get lost but the third guy the bard approached seemed interested.

He looked like one of the soldiers of the Silver Hand. He was wearing a white and blue tabard and, by the look on his face, seemed very tired. "What sort of songs do you play?" asked the solemn fellow.

"Well I play all sorts of things… mostly jolly songs-"

"Jolly eh? Have anything that can resonate with a tortured fighter?"

"Hmmm… let me see if I can remember any…" Frederick strummed the strings of his gittern a few times trying to remember a suitable song. Noticing his miniature struggle the Silver Hand soldier shook his head in disappointment and turned to take a sip of beer. Frederick felt a little discouraged by his attitude and in this moment of sorrow he started to remember an old song that he learned many years ago. The song started with a few introductory strums and continued with a steady rhythm interrupted only in interludes between verses.

"Lothar's call is sounded,  
All our lads are mounted,  
'Forth to battle this day we claim victory or death!'  
And our horses gallop,  
Forth to bloody battle,  
War has claimed the land as many utter their last breath.

Joyful, brothers, joyful,  
Joyful were the days,  
Days were we knew not of ways of war and of the fray.

Our lads with honour,  
Fight the greenskin hordes,  
Greenskin hordes grow strong but we push on and charge on forth.  
'Praise the fearless martyr!  
Blessed be his blade!  
He has fought but was cut down when greenskins came to raid.'

'Now my youthful brother,  
You must claim his sword,  
Fight the greenskin horrors for the weak and for the old,  
I will lead you, fighter,  
To victory and brighter,  
Brighter days and future that our struggle has foretold!'"

Frederick repeated the short chorus once more at the end of his song and continued to strum his gittern for a short while speechlessly to add a little more length to his short performance. The tired warrior listened carefully to the words of the song and smiled while the young bard played for him. After Frederick was done he called out to Sebastian the Tall, "Hey, innkeeper, some mead over here if you will!" The large innkeeper smiled and poured a mug full of mead for the tired fighter who subsequently handed it over to Frederick.

"Many thanks," mumbled Frederick as he poured the delicious looking drink down his throat. After finishing his mead the bard thought it may be proper to finaly introduce himself to the weary warrior. "My name is Frederick, so you know who to look for in case you grow lustful for some more fine music."

"Doubtful," replied the warrior, "My comrades and I will be moving out of your village soon so don't count on seeing us around." As the warrior spoke he glanced at Frederick with his tired eyes and noticed how the young bard jealously looked over at some other patrons who were quietly enjoying their drinks. He ordered another drink for the bard who was pleasantly surprised by this act of generosity and thanked him once more. After taking a few sips he stroke up a conversation with the warrior.

"So what brings an array of combatants like you to these humble parts?"

"What can I say, superiors' orders. Other than that it is most likely the chain of defeats that our order has suffered in Lordaeron."

"I heard of a terrible war in those parts but was it really that bad?" The warrior chuckled at the naïve question and quietly and sorrowfully responded.

"Everything is destroyed, there is nothing left of Lordaeron. That is all there is to say about that." A moment of silence followed the eerie statement of the warrior. Eager to escape the tension Frederick decided that it was a fine time for him to say farewell and take his leave. Besides, it was almost customary for Frederick to take a relaxing stroll after glugging down a few drinks. Before making his way out of the inn he thought that it may be a good idea to ask for the warrior's name in aid of common courtesy if nothing else.

"May I know the name of my generous drinking buddy?"

"The name is Daegrin."

After a few final pleasantries Frederick left the inn. While strolling through the streets of Aredash the young bard couldn't help but ponder on the war of which Daegrin spoke off and on the untold horrors that he was forced to witness.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Frederick woke up in the half-run-down barn that he fell asleep in last night. A curious horse was investigating the drowsy intruder with an uninterested long look on its face. As if oblivious to the large animal the drowsy bard sat up and yawned while scratching his hairy head. After rubbing his eyes and recounting the shekels in his pouch he slowly got up and did a little stretch. The night was colder than usual and Frederick longed the warm afternoon as he slowly approached and petted the curious horse.

The horse belonged to a local farmer whose barn Frederick occasionally used as a bedroom. The overworked farmer whose name Frederick always kept forgetting had a little bit too much to do to be everywhere at once and as a result he could seldom catch Frederick exploiting his property in such an illegal manner. Frederick got used to the foul smell that was never found lacking in the barn but as a result had to make sure to bathe in the mornings to try to banish the foul stench from himself.

After saying goodbye to his equine room-mate Frederick grabbed his gittern and headed for the open window that he used to sneak into the building last evening. He tried his best to remain silent as he stumbled and fumbled through the opening. He breathed heavily in relief when he found himself on the other side of the window without any witnesses around. Frederick then made his way to the barn's rain barrel. The smell of the due and the silence of the birds indicated the time to the young bard and he was confident that he could safely wash himself without anyone disturbing him. After he was finished splashing the cold rain water all over himself and putting on his clothes he stretched again, yawned, and headed for the village square.

About half way to his destination he briefly stopped at the sight of a familiar structure. It was a well-kept log house surrounded by a short, clean fence and home to an individual of great significance to the young bard. A youthful woman was sweeping the decorated porch of the home while quietly humming a song to herself. Frederick recognised the tune and at his heart's request pulled out his gittern and began to strum an accompanying melody. Although annoyed at the bard's presence the young lass looked up and gave him a brief smile and greeted him. "Good morning, Frederick."

"And a finest of mornings to you, Agnes," replied the somewhat flustered bard. Frederick did not desire for the conversation to end there and stalled a little while continuing to strum the strings of his gittern. The blasted instrument must have been a bit off tune as something just didn't seem right about the sound. Frederick did not persist to flaunt his flawed performance for much longer and let his tongue run loose. "Not too finely tuned in the morning I am afraid. The sound will be far sweeter once I get a good stretch and fix it up." Agnes looked up with a shadow of exasperation on her face.

"I thought bards were meant to be prepared when it comes to doing their job."

"It was just a little warm up that I hoped would have lifted your mood. I can return later today and display to you what this instrument is truly capable of." Agnes gave Frederick a tired look for a moment but then her expression changed.

"You are invited here in evening, Frederick. There is an event I almost forgot about and it would mean a lot if you turned up." Frederick's face and heart lit up and he gave Agnes a wide grin.

"It will be my pleasure, Agnes. You can rest assured that you will not be disappointed." Agnes put down her broom and approached the edge of the short colourful fence. Frederick couldn't help but get a little excited at her approach. Separated by little more than the fence she spoke to him a stern whisper.

"This event is important to me. Please be there and play as a bard should." Frederick felt a little misunderstood. It was true that he did not have the reputation of the most hardworking or reliable chap but when things came to helping Agnes the thought of him not delivering on his promises was ludicrous. Frederick gave Agnes a serious look and with a confident tone assured her that he will hold to his word.

"Don't worry, Agnes, I will make sure to do my best." Not looking as reassured as Frederick had hoped Agnes went back to the porch to continue her work. Frederick bid her good day and carried on with his stroll.

Agnes and Frederick had a brief history which could be shortly summed up with the latter being rejected and vexed for his irresponsible lifestyle. Frederick's heart played a cruel joke on him by yearning for a person that was so incompatible with him. Agnes was the epitome of a responsible and knowledgeable lady. She was a good, hardworking daughter and a dedicated apprentice of the village doctor. The lazy lifestyle and thin purse of Frederick disqualified him from Agnes's list of potential suitors.

Frederick's thoughts finally drifted away from Agnes as he approached the village square. To his surprise the caravan of the Silver Hand was gone. They must have been in a really big hurry to reach their destination if they abandoned the hospitality of Aredash before midday. Frederick felt for Daegrin and his company who barely managed to get a night's sleep before resuming their march. As Frederick leaned up against a deserted trading stall to tune his gittern he couldn't help but wonder what thoughts dwelled within the minds of the warriors of the Silver Hand. While he had Agnes and the sound of his instrument to worry about the veterans of the Silver Hand had far more serious matters to focus on. Frederick did not know how it was like for people like Daegrin but he his rich imagination allowed him to wonder about it. Exhausted and depleted of all strength by countless hours of marching the men would be thrown into the thick of battle against unspeakable horrors. These thoughts put his petty strife into perspective and Frederick chuckled a bit at the idea at his enviable problems when compared to the plight of the warriors of the silver hand, warriors who could not afford rest and were forced to continue their march at the time Frederick was still snoring in the barn.

Frederick's pondering was disturbed by the sound of a familiar voice in the distance calling out his name. With his gittern still out of tune Frederick stood up to greet his approaching friend. The lad sported a wide smile exposing his crooked teeth as he approached the young bard. "Top of the morning, Frederick!" Frederick smiled back at his friend and waved in greeting as he slowly began walking towards him. The two met and briefly embraced. The sight looked peculiar as the appearances of the two friends greatly differed from one and other. While Frederick's attire was not of the cleanest or tidiest sort his friend wore an exceptionally blue well-tailored suit that gave him the air of an aristocrat of sorts. The costume was an heirloom of his service in Stormwind's navy and reflected more than just his vanity. His current service was to the village guard of Aredash and unlike some of his less respectable co-workers he took his job quite seriously. His name was Urban and as well as being a friend of Frederick he also had both Guy the Wise and other big names of the village guard in his circle.

After the short hug Frederick and Urban engaged in conversation "Our Silver Hand friends left in quite a rush didn't they, Urban?"

"Without a doubt they did, my friend, but that is not the most interesting event of the morning let me tell you."

"What else has been happening?"

"The silver lads left alongside with the baron and his boys. Some sort of order from the king. I am just happy that I answer to Guy and don't have to go trundling to Stormwind." The news that the baron and his guard were summoned by Stormwind's king inspired curiosity in Frederick.

"Any idea why those guys left like that?"

"No explanation was given. My friend Kelemtor got a word in with Guy about this and he got back to me and told me that those pompous paladins didn't even let him know about why they were forcing our men to Stormwind." After mentioning the paladins Urban spit at the ground in disgust.

"Not the most tolerable chaps are they?" asked Frederick with a cheeky grin. Urban shook his black haired head in disapproval.

"Those bastards looked at us like dogs. So high and mighty with their tomes and their 'hallowed' weapons. I am just happy that they are gone now." A silence followed Urban's comment and as the two friends strolled along a dirt road Frederick took the opportunity to finish tuning his gittern.

About half an hour passed as Frederick and Urban made their way through the village sharing gossip and telling jokes. During this time Urban revealed to his friend that he was relatively free that day and thus was planning to spend some time improving his marksmanship. Frederick owned a sling himself and decided to tag along as Urban made his way to the small archery range behind a messy shack that served as the barracks for the village guard. By this time Frederick forgot about Agnes are her request and was carelessly collecting rocks while Urban complained to him about some of his lazier co-workers. "I am telling you, Freddy, this bastard grins like it's his lucky day when time comes to grabbing food at the barracks like as if he does any amount of honest work. When I sneak a peek at his post it's as empty as his unwashed soup bowl, only crickets having some sort concert while he is in a place man is yet to discover. The sack of lard better share about this mystical land he disappears to and do us all some good." Urban's honest and ruthless attitude resonated with a part of Frederick. He didn't know why he respected this manner of dedication to competence and why Urban did not in turn scold Frederick for his irresponsible lifestyle. He did not want to believe that it was due to cronyism but doing so only meant that the impression of Urban's dislike for incompetence was not wholly representative of reality.

Frederick gathered quite a bit of rocks to practise his slinging. He detached the short sling from his belt and placed a rock into its pouch. Urban was still going on about the incompetent guard, whose name Frederick already forgot, as he was preparing his crossbow for target practise and only stopped his complaining to count his crossbow bolts.

"Just imagine you're shooting at that bastard for a guaranteed bull's-eye," said Frederick while smiling at his unamused friend.

"One of these days he may just get that." Urban decided to begin first while Frederick spectated. He fired several times at a wooden target but he never quite hit the centre. Noting that Urban had just fired four bolts into roughly the same patch which was just two inches below the bull's-eye Frederick advised him to adjust his aim upwards. This, however, resulted in a similar almost comical set of shots that narrowly missed the centre; although, this time they were all above the bull's-eye. The young bard couldn't help but laugh at this amusing occurrence. This laughter brought about the scorn of Urban who was soon found challenging Frederick to best his precision. Frederick was well aware that he did not have the capability to do so but he accepted nevertheless and with a little put-on pomp Frederick aimed his sling at another nearby target. His first shot just hit the edge of the target which resulted in a roar of forced laughter from Urban. Frederick's following shots were not much better but Urban commended him on at least not missing the target entirely.

Urban and Frederick continued practising while cracking jokes. After Frederick's jokes started to get more and more stale the two realised that they were dry on good humour and decided to add more seriousness into the conversation. "You have any concerts today?" Frederick remembered about Agnes and his promise to her and felt bad that he was practising his aim with a sling as opposed his singing and strumming.

"Yes, Agnes asked me to play for her in the evening." Urban lowered his crossbow and looked over at Frederick with a cheeky grin.

"Your dreams are coming true?" he said with a laugh. "Next thing you know she'll be inviting you to her bedroom." Frederick smiled at the ludicrous idea that he had any chances with Agnes. He was almost certain that he was called to play for some important occasion or celebration and for little more than that.

"Quite optimistic; I wish I could deceive myself into thinking like this sometimes." Urban's smile widened as he raised his crossbow and fired at the target. The bolt hit right in the bull's-eye but bounced of the wooden target as if in mockery of Urban. The angry village guard dropped his crossbow in fury while Frederick almost fell over laughing at the amazing coincidence.

"The whole thing is cursed!" raved Urban as he approached the target to inspect the bolt that had let him down. "Frederick this is unacceptable. I am going to sharpen this piece of trash before I snap and hurt someone."

"Go ahead, my friend, I will be at the tavern in the meantime." After picking up his crossbow and collecting his bolts Urban was about to part ways with Frederick until he stopped for a moment in though.

"Play her that Alterac song and I will meet you soon at the tavern with my flute." Frederick nodded in confirmation and left the archery range. He was a little nervous about the idea of playing together with Urban but he was willing to give it a shot. Either way he did not have the gall to refuse Urban's friendly offer to make Agnes's evening a little more entertaining.

Frederick thought of practising a little on the way to the tavern but it was not too far from the village square so he chose to hum to himself instead. On his way there he met an unaggressive stray dog who followed him to his destination. A week ago Frederick named this dog Chomper after he threw it some scraps and affectionately petted it before it was scared away by his unintentional sneeze. When Fredrick arrived at the tavern he felt a little bad that Chomper had to stay outside and could not enjoy his music but there was little he could do about it. Frederick sat down and prepared his instrument. Urban asked him to play a certain song which he offered to perform alongside him so Frederick concluded that his performance would rely mainly on that one song. He would have to slow the tempo down a little and play the chorus an extra time to squeeze the most out of the song. He began playing it without singing as his throat felt a little off without being doused by some mead. The calming melody seemed appealing to the lads enjoying their drinks and more importantly to Sebastian, the tavern's owner. As Frederick began replaying it for the third time the tall innkeeper graciously brought the young bard a bun and some mead. Frederick's spirits were lifted as he bit into the soft piece of bread and drank it down with some sweet deliciousness. He played the same melody once more and decided to play a different one afterwards just to give a little variety to the good people at the tavern.

The sun was still up by the time Frederick left the tavern. Chomper was waiting for him all this time and eagerly lifted his dirty head from the ground at the sight of the young bard. After relieving himself behind the tavern Frederick threw a small piece of the bun that he saved for later to Chomper who quickly chomped it up. The sight of the mutt happily wagging its tail while it chewed on the piece of bread warmed Frederick's heart and he wondered why he did not spend more time with his four-legged friend. Frederick's question was answered by the loud and familiar voice of Urban. "Out of here, animal!" shouted Urban while aiming a kick at the frightened dog's head. Urban's appearance was quite sudden and startled both Frederick and Chomper whose reaction was to dodge the incoming kick and flee the scene as fast as was possible. Urban turned and smiled at his speechless friend. "How's it going, Frederick?" Frederick shook his head and coldly replied.

"You didn't have to chase poor Chomper away like that." Urban raised his eyebrows and gave Frederick a big grin.

"You gave that thing a name?" Urban laughed and put his hand on the young bard's shoulder. "Don't take it personally, my friend. You don't want to have a coughing fit in mid performance eh?"

Frederick accepted the excuse. He would have to abandon the mutt sooner or later either way as he hardly could allow it to follow him all the way into the home of Agnes.

"You remembered your flute?" asked Frederick with a smirk. Urban's smile widened as he presented Frederick with the short wooden instrument.

"I played a little on the way here; you should have seen some of the looks I was getting. I still have the hang of it I think. Can you just remind me what the lyrics were again?" The two friends set out to the house of Agnes. The trip was not too long and on their way there Frederick recited the song's lyrics to Urban and Urban once more teased Frederick about his sentiments for Agnes.


End file.
